Raise Hell
by WraithStrike
Summary: Deidara finds himself having contracted with a demon and proceeds to introduce him to holiday traditions. Feelings ensue.
1. New Year

He can hear people talking about the ball drop on the TV and knows Sasori's watching anxiously. He doesn't really understand the demon's interest in the new year, he doesn't seem interested in anything else, but Sasori just scoffed and told him that the end of something had to be respected, even if it was only a fragile human construct that he could tear apart with a flick of the wrist. Deidara's fairly certain that's what he did to the old shed that used to be in the back of the park, but he doesn't know for sure.

He's pretty sure his mom has the wrong idea (Except it's not the wrong idea because it's what he wants and he _aches_ for it, but Sasori is Sasori and demons don't love) about his sharing an apartment with another man, but Sasori's a demon who doesn't know how to do some of the simplest things and he's not about to release him from their contract. Still, he feels like his mother would sigh with a little smile and say something about young love if she saw him carrying two flutes of champagne out to the little redhead (And he's tiny, he's not sure how the man seems so imposing when he's tiny and pretty and looks just enough like a young girl to be imagined in a schoolgirl outfit) sitting on the couch.

Sasori takes it without looking, eyes intent on the screen, and Deidara laughs. "It's not going to go away, you know. If you stop watching the TV, it'll still be there when you look back at it." But all the same he settles down beside him and pulls a blanket over both of their laps.

Sasori's eyes break away from the screen only long enough to glance down at the blanket, up at his face, and over to the fireplace as he starts a small flame with a snap of his fingers before he's looking at the TV again. "I know. But your human traditions change, it's interesting to watch. You're funny in the way you celebrate things." A bag of gummy worms materializes out of the air and he pops one in his mouth, chewing contentedly.

He really wonders if Sasori doesn't realize that his habits are all personal to him and he's never seen anyone put away sugary treats the way he does. He's not sure Sasori ever eats anything but junk food, he's never seen it, but his teeth are as white and shiny as ever and he really thinks he's got to do something to get Sasori's image of perfection to crack for a minute. Just one moment. "I thought the only things worth existing were things that would last forever."

Sasori regards him out of one eye, maybe contemplating his thought process, but then he turns back to the TV again and he's hit by a sudden frustration. He wants his full attention, doesn't like it when Sasori's attention is so obviously not on him. "Yes. But traditions may well last forever. Regardless, they're interesting." Maybe it is. Maybe Sasori's only using the TV to give himself space to think, but Deidara wants the full weight of those dark eyes that promise dirty things to be resting on him. Sometimes his feelings are way too intense for his comfort. He wonders if Sasori can feel them, just sitting next to him.

"We have a lot of traditions, you know." He starts, waiting for Sasori's noncommittal hum. When he gets it, he grins, because they're counting down on the TV and he knows what he's doing. "I could show you them, if you'd like." He can almost feel Sasori contemplating it, but he's given a nod of assent and that's all he needs.

He grabs Sasori by the shoulder and spins him, slanting his mouth over Sasori's even as he feels Sasori tense up against him. He knows Sasori's eyes are wide in shock or outrage, but he coaxes with his teeth and tongue until Sasori's soft and pliant against him and lets his tongue into his mouth. He can feel Sasori, after a moment, trying to reciprocate, and he's amazed to note that he's _not_ good at this, he's clumsy and hesitant and Deidara wonders if Sasori's kissed anyone before, if there's ever been anyone in his long lifespan that he's allowed to kiss him so intimately. He doesn't think so.

Sasori goes from prickly and uptight to submissive way too fast. He clings to him like Deidara's the center of his universe and lets out little soft, pleased mewls that shouldn't be so arousing and he realizes that although Sasori likes to do things with his mouth, he's never been kissed like this, never realized that his mouth is so, so sensitive, and he feels a thrill to know something about Sasori before Sasori knows it himself.

And when he pulls back, it's way too satisfying to see Sasori's eyes hazy and his pupils blown wide. His wings are pressed down and his tail lifted up, the invitation for _more_ is obvious. He can see Sasori's chest moving in silent panting, but he says nothing and Deidara realizes that he's embarrassed by his reactions, this doesn't happen often, but he still likes it and wants more of it. He grins. "Happy New Year…"

But apparently this is the wrong thing to say, because Sasori shoves him away with a lash of his tail and gets up, hissing something about him being an ass as he stalks out of the room. Deidara's not really sure what to think about that, he knows Sasori liked it, he sees Sasori's wings still pressed down, still giving control. "You don't have to be embarrassed!" The door slams. He wonders what he's going to have to do to get the proud little demon to understand he's not making fun of him.


	2. Valentines

He watches the snow come down slowly and wonders if it's just luck that there's always snow on Valentine's Day. Sasori sits in a small circle of grass, watching how little flakes of snow go up in flames as they come in contact with his skin. He realizes that means Sasori's probably about as hot as the sun, but whenever he touches him Sasori feels like ice. He wonders if Sasori notices.

"Do demons celebrate Valentine's Day?" He wonders out loud, only half aware he's even speaking. He could see Sasori celebrating, actually. He looks like the sort of person that would go to Valentine's parties. Especially stuffed in the Valentine's sweater he gave him, which Sasori scoffed at but put on anyways.

He doesn't have to look to know Sasori's rolling his eyes. "No. Of course not. We're demons. We've got better things to do than to celebrate a stupid human day of love." But with Sasori's attention on him, the snow starts to land in his hair, catching in his eyelashes and making Deidara's heart pound.

He looks away, doesn't know when he looked at him in the first place. "Do demons even fall in love?" He's not sure he wants to know the answer to that. He doesn't think it would change anything. All he knows is that for all Sasori's wings are powerful and agile and deadly and leather, for all his tail swishes and touches in ways that aren't quite innocent but aren't seduction either, when he sits in a circle of grass with snow catching in his messy hair and showing up just for a second against his pale pink lips, to Deidara he looks like an angel.

Sasori snorts, and immediately little flecks of fire shoot up to consume each snowflake that touched him. Deidara can feel the warmth. "No. Of course not." The answer aches. He hates it. So instead he turns his attention to the cherry tree they're sitting under, tries to remember what it looks like covered in blooms. It's a little bit harder than he thinks it should be.


	3. Easter

Sasori seems unimpressed. He always seems unimpressed, but when he's sitting beside Deidara watching him dip eggs in glasses that leave colors stained across their surface, he doesn't think he could find a more unimpressed face. It confuses him, Sasori always seems interested in the traditions he introduces him to.

"Why?" The word is out of his mouth before he realizes it's happening. Sasori's eyes slowly drag from his hands to his face and he feels a flare of irritation at realizing that Sasori is playing innocent, he knows what the question means and those eyes are fast enough to cut steel if he really wished it. "Why does this bore you?"

Sasori's eyes flick back to the eggs, and for a long moment Deidara doesn't think he's going to answer him. There's a certain stillness to him that shows off his unwillingness to speak. But suddenly every inch of him seems to move at once, and his position changes to fluid and comfortable. He wonders if Sasori knows when he's reading him accurately and changes things just to throw him off. He wonders how angry Sasori would be when he realized that Deidara could see through him like the vast array of smoke and mirrors he really was.

It still takes him a moment to answer, but now his eyes are a little wider and friendlier than usual, he feels another flash of irritation at knowing Sasori is still just playing with him. But his words aren't a joke. "Because I know what it means. And resurrection is dumb. It's not real." He has to rethink his thoughts, it's entirely possible that for Sasori to be truthful he has to be lying somewhere, and he's fairly certain it's partial to him alone, despite the oh-so _many_ demons he's been in the habit of conversing with.

It stays quiet for a long time, and Sasori smiles a cute, innocent smile that Deidara knows would melt the hearts of anyone who didn't know that it was a lie and this was a demon dedicated to their eternal damnation. He wonders why Sasori hasn't tried to tempt him into anything. He's pretty sure it's because he's already doomed to Hell for having a demon in the first place.

Eventually he does manage to string together what he wants to say, but he wonders if Sasori cares, or if the happiness in his face is lying to hide some added suffering a lack of resurrection brought upon him. "But you're a demon. Jesus Christ-"

He's cut off by a scoff and the ugliest expression he's seen on that porcelain face skews it for a moment, before it all melts away into the apathetic bedroom eyes he's pretty sure Sasori knows he thinks of as his toilet-bowl face. "Jesus Christ was good at sucking cock and bringing together the common men, but he never was resurrected. Just didn't die." Sasori's face doesn't change, remains as apathetic as ever, but Deidara sees a sadness in him that he knows doesn't belong there.

He can't help his little croon of laughter, though, his demon is delightfully blasphemous sometimes and he's fairly certain the pleasure he gets from it shouldn't be so fulfilling. "Please don't ever say that to anyone but me." It's a little too late to realize how intimate a statement that is, 'save a piece of yourself for me', but he doesn't think Sasori's caught that.

Sasori just looks confused. He thinks it's genuine, he's not entirely sure if it's the most genuine Sasori's looked. "It's just… Jesus is really important to people. If you say that to the wrong person, people will get all up in arms." For a brief moment he sees the arrogance and pride flash through Sasori's eyes, knows the demons next words ought to be something along the lines of not needing to care about the petty concerns of humans, but the expression fades smoothly and he just gets a nod in response.

He goes back to making his easter eggs and Sasori doesn't interrupt the quiet. He knows Sasori's got that itch, the one where he wants to destroy something, because he can feel it on the back of his neck. Sasori's itch sends a worried feeling over Deidara's spine, he feels like prey in a way he's fairly certain most people don't experience. So he has to break the silence.

When he does, it's a question he's wondered since he first summoned Sasori. "Is God real?" Sasori is real, is unmistakably a demon, and if demons are real, why not angels? Why not the Devil, why not God? He's sure there's a Hell, he's sure he's going there, but he wonders if he had a chance before Sasori's claws got into him or if he had only solidified his position.

Sasori goes unnaturally still, his stillness always makes Deidara think perhaps demons are just vampires, because it doesn't even look like Sasori breathes. He's hit by the sudden realization that Sasori does _not_ like that question, and the sudden sagging of his shoulders nearly makes Deidara jump. "How should I know?"

Deidara freezes for a moment, and then he can feel the rising fear and pressure that he's sure is going to lead to a meltdown. But Sasori interrupts it and it's just as sudden as the leading up to it. "I know. I'm a demon, if anyone should know, it ought to be me. But if you take a war, any war, and ask how many of the soldiers have seen their own leader face to face, much less the leader of the opposite faction… I've never met the Devil, Deidara. And I've never met God. I'm old, Deidara, I've never met a demon older than me, and the demons have been fighting the angels for at least as long as I've been alive. What's to say we haven't always? What's to say we're not two armies fighting a war against each other without any leaders telling us too? What's to say I'm not the Devil?" The look Deidara gets gives him a glimpse into millennia, he can see the tiredness radiating out of the small demon in front of him.

He swallows heavily, eyes wide and a little panicked even as he understands that the lack of kings doesn't change the war or the damage. "Resurrection is dumb. What's to say the Devil and God haven't died?" He wonders if that means Sasori will eventually die and stay dead, or if it means that Jesus's lack of dying will also mean Sasori won't die. He hopes for the latter. He thinks Sasori hopes for the former. He's not sure how he feels about that realization.

Sasori shakes his head, a bitter smile twisting his face. Deidara's never seen that, he wonders if it means Sasori's actually starting to open up to him, or if he even knows that he's so obviously exposing a raw wound to Deidara's inspection. "No. That's… well, yes, but that's not what it's about. I… I'm not an earth demon. I came from somewhere else. For how your churches admire humility, it's very arrogant to assume you're the only higher functioning species. I did my job, Deidara, I invited them to sin and they did. And now they're gone, and I spent millennia flying through darkness to come here. And they're not coming back. They're dead, and they're not coming back."

His eyes are soft and almost wounded as he stares at the wooden tabletop. "I destroyed a world because I could, and I have no idea of if it meant anything to anyone, if it could be considered a victory, because I know no leader. Do you understand? Resurrection is dumb because no one ever, ever comes back. If you're asking me if I think there's a god… then no. I think… that if a god existed, he would bring them back. And Jesus Christ. I think if there was a god, I would be the one nailed to the cross to suffer for every crime that world committed, and all the ones I did besides. I would do it again, it's who I am, it's my nature, but… that doesn't mean I wouldn't suffer for it if someone wished me to."

Sasori stares at the eggs, and Deidara can see the dark circles surrounding his eyes. Deidara stares at him, but if Sasori realizes, he doesn't say anything. He wonders what he can say to make things better. He doesn't think Sasori can be comforted. Not from him, in any case. "I think you already have." He tries anyways, and Sasori exhales sharply, but doesn't say anything as Deidara continues dyeing the eggs. This time, Sasori looks a lot more invested than before.


	4. 4th of July

He's pretty sure Sasori doesn't like fireworks. He doesn't jump at loud noises, but the little glances being sent to every table they pass are enough to convince him. He wonders what's happened to Sasori to make the demon dislike fire. Unfortunately for him, Deidara loves fire. He loves fireworks and explosions, and he's told the demon several times today that Sasori would love it if he gave it a shot. He wonders if that's true.

"Do you like roman candles?" Sasori's been too quiet since breakfast, he wants to make him say something that sounds like himself. He doesn't feel right without Sasori's scathing remarks littering his day.

Sasori sends him a look that just screams disgust, before he turns away again and drops the tiny bag of smoke bombs back in the bin. "I fail to see anything likable in your screaming color balls." That's a no, but it's something, and Deidara just grins at him and grabs two four-packs. Sasori will love them, he knows.

Deidara carries the bag when they leave, because Sasori doesn't want them anyways. Still, he hasn't done anything to sabotage this, so Deidara's pretty sure it's just a front. He knows he shouldn't be so relaxed on the streets, but with Sasori at his side it's hard not to be relaxed. Something about him just creates a feeling of safety, he's not sure it's not some sort of magic that works on humans in the demon's presence or not.

Still, it means that he doesn't realize what's happening until there's a gun pointing at him and a voice telling him to drop the fireworks. He freezes and he can almost taste Sasori's tension. "No." He wonders why the man doesn't seem to care that there's two of them, but his ears catch the scuff of a boot on asphalt too far away to be holding the gun and he realizes that they're not alone.

The man scoffs softly. "I could kill you. Put the fireworks down, blondie. And then I want you to empty your pockets for me." He notices Sasori's tension is gone, his racing brain momentarily wonders what nightmares Sasori is expecting to come for him if a gun pointed to his head is so unconcerning.

"I said no." He's not sure what prompts him to fight against this guy who's holding a gun to his head and doesn't seem to be at all new to this. Maybe a feeling of masculine pride, but he's fairly certain that's long gone and all that's holding up is his desire to impress his demonic companion. Folly, he knows, it would take much more than this to impress him.

He's not really sure what happens, one second he's hearing the gun cock behind him and the next he's on the ground, looking up at blood-red wings spread in front of him as sprays of blood leave the exit wound of the bullet to fall across his face. He hears a scream, he's not sure who of, and then he's being hauled to his feet. He holds still, staring at Sasori as the small man starts piling his fireworks back in the bags in his arms.

He hardly hears him when Sasori starts talking, just remembers sprays of blood leaving the bullet wound through his chest. "You got shot." He can tell by Sasori's tone of voice that he's saying something sarcastic, but he's not listening because Sasori got shot, he's sure Sasori is dying and the only part of his brain that's moving at a decent speed briefly wonders if he's going into shock.

"Deidara, we have to _go_. People heard that shot, they'll be coming to investigate." Sasori snaps in front of his eyes and lets out a somehow aggressive-sounding sigh. He's practically boneless as Sasori's arms wrap around his waist and he suddenly leaves the ground, he's not sure how he'll survive without Sasori after so long. He glances up at Sasori and for the first time he sees Sasori as what he is. He doesn't see the serpent he's always seen, he wonders if that version of Sasori even exists or if it's just a projection. For the first time, he sees Sasori as a soldier of Hell, an aged demon all too used to pain and destruction that a bullet wound doesn't concern him anymore. For once he doesn't see someone who needs to be coddled and pampered but the protector he summoned. He wonders if it's his own fault that Sasori has shown such indulgent sin during the time they've been together.

They land on his balcony and he knows Sasori knows that the balcony is locked, but it opens easily at his touch and Deidara follows behind him in a daze. "You got shot. You've been shot." He can see the blood leaking sluggishly from the wound and wonders if demons bleed slower. "Your blood is black."

Sasori sends him a cross look, pulling off his shirt and Deidara winces at the gaping hole left behind the bullet. "Yes, and it's all over your face. You ought to go wash that off, it doesn't suit you." He wonders how Sasori can be so nonchalant as the bullet wound starts closing on it's own, steam sluggishly rising from the new skin. Deidara does as he says, returning with a wet cloth to wipe away the blood still staining his skin. Sasori makes no move to help him, he's forced to look at every drop of black blood. It makes him feel sick, that used to be inside Sasori.

He wants to say that Sasori could have died, that he's reckless and foolish and needs to take better care of himself, but suddenly he feels every year that separates them and stays mute in the presence of the man that he's not entirely sure could kill him with a thought. He wonders if God takes prayers for demons. He doesn't think so, and he's not religious, but he debates sending one up anyways because Sasori is too much and nothing at all at the same time and he doesn't think he can handle it. He wonders if God could. He doesn't think so.


End file.
